


Moments in the Dark

by Allie2019



Category: Metro 2033 & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 08:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allie2019/pseuds/Allie2019
Summary: Artyom should hate Pavel, he has to be a good soldier in order to save the metro, a good member of the Order to do what's best for humanity.But sometimes he can't.





	Moments in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Coming up with summaries truly is the hardest. I spent like 30 minutes trying to come up with a 'good' summary. 
> 
> This 'work' was a little bit, partly, inspired by "Companion," by the Ao3 user Dracones95, so thank you for the amazing piece of fiction. (Which also is far better than anything I'll ever write.) 
> 
> Also, maybe I should mention that there are like slight mentions of/references to homophobia, but it's like really minor.
> 
> I'm not a native speaker so there might be mistakes in this text, I apologize if that is the case.

Artyom had no idea for how long they would let him sit here waiting. The pain in his head, arms, chest and the rest of his body had dulled a little and he could redirect his mind towards other things again. In the room, there was a clock and its mechanical tick-tock repeated over and over again until it was the only thing he heard and could think of. It wouldn't have bothered him so much had he only been able to see it and know what time it was, but the officer who left him hours ago had made sure to extinguish all sources of light before he shut the door and doomed Artyom to sit in complete darkness with his thoughts as the only company. And oh boy, were they keeping him company. Not for a second did his feelings stay calm, roaring like a storm inside of him. At first, he was relieved that he was alive and in one piece, but that relief was quickly replaced by anger, anger directed towards himself and the Red Line. "What a fucking idiot," he thought to both Pavel and himself. But when tied to a chair in a completely dark room, one could only be angry for so long and after a few hours had passed in the darkness, the only feelings Artyom had left were depression and fear. The possibility that he wasn't going to get out of here or even survive for much longer grew bigger every second as his hope slowly extinguished like a dying candle. 

He would have to be smarter after this -- if there were an after. Never trust a communist again. Or any political opponent for that matter. Just thinking of Pavel steered up more anger in him and he gritted his teeth until they ached. His first mistake had been even accepting that stupid knife from him, instead, he should have sliced his throat open with it and left him to die with the Nazis, Pavel was no better than them. His second had been coming back for him in the Reich instead of escaping on his own. His third had been believing that Pavel would take him to Polis, had he been an intelligent person, he would politely have declined and said: "Thank you but I can get there on my own." It could have been a sweet story, even. He met a communist also captured by the Reich, they escaped together and then they parted ways, helped each other as the enemy's enemy. Artyom could have told it to the members of the Order, look not all Reds are evil. But Artyom apparently wasn't intelligent."Comrades? Friends? My ass," he thought. The Reds were just like everyone said. Artyom didn't even know why he was acting surprised, why he had been surprised. Some part of him must have believed that Pavel --a soldier of the Red Army-- could possess empathy and loyalty for other than the Red Line, that Artyom saving his life meant something, that him saving Artyom's meant something, that Artyom meant something to him. Naive and childish. For Pavel, the only thing that meant something was obeying orders. His constant talk of orders, every second it fueled Artyom's anger, frustration, and hatred further. He could taste blood in his mouth and spat on the floor.

For how long would they let him wait here? Probably the entire night. Hours had passed since 6 PM when Pavel had taken him to dinner after the performance in the 'theater.' What time could it be now? Eleven in the night? One in the morning? What would happen tomorrow when the Red officers returned? If they returned. Would there be more questions Artyom wouldn't answer, more tormenting and torture? Would they, when realizing that he wasn't saying a word, kill him? A bullet to the head or maybe they'd hang him in a public execution, taking inspiration from Pavel's adventure with the Nazis. Anything was possible, Pavel clearly hadn't had any moral reservations about using poison before, so why not make it deadly this time? Oh, he knew it, there were already rumors of famines on the Red Line, what stopped them from throwing him in a prison cell deeply hidden in the tunnels and starve him to death to let the rats feast on his body? The opportunities were endless. 

Artyom tensed up, not even allowing himself to breathe. On the other side of the door, hushed and quiet, was the sound of someone walking. His chest filled with hope -- was someone coming to rescue him? Was there a person on the Red Line with a heart and courage, with morals and beliefs, someone who was so troubled by seeing Artyom getting tortured that they would dare to disobey their leader in order to rescue him? But nothing was heard for minutes and his doubts slowly reappeared. Was he just tired, about to fall asleep? His eyelids were getting heavier, his head involuntarily tipped downwards and it was plausible that the footsteps had merely been the first sensations of a dream, one which would hopefully carry him far away. 

The door opened without a warning. Had he not been tied to the chair, Artyom would have immediately jumped up on his feet. A silhouette appeared in the door frame for a second before the door slammed shut again. 

"Fuck, it's so dark in here... blyad, where's the light?" The voice was all too familiar. In the next moment, the room was flooded with light from a small candle on the table. Pavel stood in front of him and looked at him with helpless eyes. He didn't say anything, his eyes simply stared directly into Artyom's. The silence got pressuring and Artyom swallowed audibly. Pavel's eyes flickered. According to the clock on the wall, it was 1:34 in the morning.

"Are you just gonna stand there all night?" Artyom finally said. Pavel shook his head and sighed.

"Fuck... Fuck, Tyoma, I'm so sorry, I didn't..."

"What? And don't call me that." Artyom said, growing impatient. Pavel shook his head again, let it rest in his hands. 

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have..." He murmured as he stumbled towards Artyom, who wrinkled his nose as the smell of alcohol reached him. Pavel was completely wasted. 

"Why are you here? To torture me even more? Laughing at the stupid child who was naive enough to trust you last time wasn't enough?" Artyom said, glaring at Pavel who shook his head violently, slouching forward as if he was going to fall over.

"They tortured you? Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I, I, it wasn't my intention, it wasn't supposed to be like this, I don't know..."

"Well, it happened because you took me here! You knew what was going to happen." Artyom's voice nearly cracked, tears forming in his eyes. Pavel pressed a finger against his lips with panic in his eyes.

"Shhh, be quiet. They'll hear us."

"You aren't allowed to talk with me? Then why are you here?"

"I, uh, it was just something... something I had to do, but it doesn't matter, uh, forget it..." Pavel lied down on the floor, stared at the ceiling intensely for a few seconds and began laughing.

"What's so funny?" Artyom couldn't help but ask. Although he wanted nothing more than to ignore Pavel, it was impossible to deny his presence in the room and the way it affected Artyom. Pavel's laughter abruptly died and he sat up, looking around in the room with confusion.

"Funny? Why'd you push me on the floor?"

"Stop playing games with me! I didn't push you, how could I have? Look at me, I'm tied to a chair, I can't possibly move!" Pavel looked up and his eyes cleared a little.

"That's true," he said thoughtfully. "I guess I must have fallen." Artyom assumed it was safest to not tell him that he willingly had lied down mere seconds ago. Pavel made no indication of moving up from the floor.

"Did you come here just to get somewhere to sleep? Don't you have your own place?"

"You're right, I, uh, should, I go... tired."

"Speak like a normal fucking person," Artyom said with toxic serenity. 

"I'm trying to! But words, all the w-words, they're wrong, my head can't... I can't think, it's all wrong."

"Maybe you shouldn't have drunk so much. I'm gonna shout and tell your superiors that you're here if you at least don't leave me alone."

"Please don't!" Pavel desperately cried out. "I came here, um, because of I, I need to talk with you."

"To say what? You want to apologize for being a traitor and hope I'll forgive you?" He imitated Pavel's voice. "Haha, I know I made you trust me, chuvak, and tricked you into the Red Line with me, only to betray you and practically sell you for free to my superiours who tortured you and left you in a dark room to die but I'm sorry and please forgive me, okay?" An unexpected pain stung him as he looked into Pavel's bright, blue eyes, already shiny from the alcohol and Artyom could swear tears formed in them as he ranted. Pavel's voice was thin and trembled when he spoke.

"Suka, I don't know what to tell you, I-I'm s-sorry." He closed his eyes, hid his face behind his hands. None of them spoke. The clock continued. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Minutes passed. Pavel lied on the floor without moving.

"Are you asleep?" Artyom hesitatingly asked. Pavel jerked his head up, rubbed his eyes.

"No, I just didn't, uh, know what to say." Pavel sat up, rose up with his shaky legs. Moved a few steps closer. He now stood a few meters from Artyom, who felt a weird, sickening feeling in his stomach. Breathing became harder and Pavel must have noticed it too because he inhaled sharply. His eyes were almost clear, free from the grogginess that had clogged them a minute earlier. He reached out his hand and stroke Artyom's cheek. His cold fingertips against his face sent a shiver down his spine and he nearly flinched.

"Wh-what are you doing?" His voice quivered. Pavel retracted his hand and looked down on the floor between them. He gulped as his eyes widened yet he remained silent when he saw that it was stained red with blood. 

"Are you sure? Are you sure you don't feel it too?" Pavel said, avoiding looking at him.

"F-feel what?" Artyom stuttered even though he knew what Pavel meant. He hated it, but the sensation was unquestionably there. The burning heat in his chest was a desire he couldn't repress. It was sickening and likewise was the thought of ignoring it. He was going to throw up. Pavel placed his firm hand on Artyom's shoulder, leaned in and whispered in a thin, nearly breaking voice:

"You know what I mean." His words lacked all their regular cheerfulness and playful tone. Had he ever seen Pavel this serious? Artyom shuddered. Goosebumps appeared on his arms.

"I h-hate you, Pavel," He managed to stammer through gritted teeth. Pavel retrieved a somber smile and pulled his hand through Artyom's hair this time. Artyom didn't try to move, he didn't jerk his head away with distaste. He wanted to but couldn't, he was solely paralyzed. He gazed into Pavel's eyes and couldn't express the feeling that haunted him. 

"I know you do," Pavel said softly before lightly pressing his lips against Artyom's. He tried to not react at all as Pavel's lips met his, but his body couldn't help but tense up. The taste of alcohol filled his mouth, it would have been reprehensive but he hardly noticed it. Pavel seemed equally startled because he quickly pulled back after only a few split seconds, pressed his hands against Artyom's chest and shoved himself away. 

"Shit, shit, Artyom, I don't, I'm sorry, look, I shouldn't have-" Pavel said, red in the face. He sat down on the floor, leaned against the wall and sighed heavily. Artyom stared blankly in front of him, still in shock. He had kissed a man, not only a man but an enemy, a person who probably wanted him dead... If anything, that was further proof that he had deserved being captured and interrogated by the Red Line. He truly was a naive idiot. Because not only was he not as disgusted as he should be, a part of him wanted to feel the sensation again, soft, tender lips against his own, rough hands pulling his hair. Pavel looked up, met Artyom's eyes. The light from the candle reflected in his eyes, they were shiny with tears. It took Artyom a while to say something. 

"Would you let me free?" He asked, as stern, yet as casual as he could.

"Free?" Pavel mumbled confusedly until his gaze fell upon Artyom, still tied to the chair, unable to move both his arms and legs.   
"Oh, of course." Pavel stood up again and Artyom could see that his legs trembled as he stumbled the few steps that were between him and Artyom. He stopped, searched through his pockets, mumbled something. Visibly getting annoyed, Pavel looked around in the room.

"I could have sworn that I had a knife with me-"

"It's on the floor," Artyom nodded towards the small knife that Pavel must have dropped when he sat down.

"Thanks. Okay, let's do this. My coordination may not be the best right now, but I'm doing my best, eh?"

"Just don't cut my hands off," Artyom said with half a smile. Pavel chuckled nervously.

"I'll do my best."

Pavel managed to cut through the thick rope without seriously injuring Artyom or himself. Finally free, the first thing Artyom did was to stand up, stretch his heavy and stiff limbs. He shook his legs, wanted to move around, jump up and down, run as far as he could. But the door was still closed, probably locked. The candle Pavel had lit had already been reduced to half its prior size. It was 1:55 AM. 

"Why did you really come here, Pavel?" Artyom asked. Pavel avoided his gaze, stared at the floor for the millionth time this night. He sighed.

"When, when I k-kissed you, did you, did you hate it?" Pavel's voice wasn't more than a desperate whisper. Artyom choked when he tried to make a sound and he had to be silent for a long time before he could even reply. He stared at the wall in front of him instead, avoided looking at Pavel as much as he avoided Artyom.

"Even if I wouldn't have, that doesn't mean anything. You're a Red, a communist, an-"

"An enemy, I know... But what if, what if we could, just for tonight... I'm an idiot, a traitor, I deserve to die, but if I wanted to kiss you again, would you let me do it?" Pavel slurred his speech as he rambled, he had obviously been drinking more than enough. Artyom could easily see him sitting alone in the bar or in his office with a mountain of bottles growing on his table. This imagined, vulnerable Pavel evoked a feeling of profound sadness in Artyom and he involuntary found himself nearly tearing up. But it was also clear that Pavel was sincere, his eyes glowed as he spoke and his voice was passionate, charged with warm hope. And at the same time so coldly desperate. Artyom should run away, he should push Pavel to the ground, open the door and flee. He should scream no. Artyom whispered his answer, not knowing if his voice would even bear to say it out loud. He had never felt a stronger distaste for himself, every member of the Order whispered in his head and told him he was an idiot, a traitor himself, not better than Pavel. 

"Do it," he said. "Do it." Pavel took a hesitating step closer. They were within an arm's reach of each other. Finally, Artyom reached out and touched Pavel's arm, grabbed it and pulled him close, embraced him tenderly. They stood still for seconds, listening to nothing but each others' breathing. Artyom could only imagine what Melnik, what Anya, what Ulman would think if any of them could see him now, in the arms of a Red, another man for that matter, but the thought disappeared a second later when Pavel drunkenly smiled at him, his face conveyed sorrow and happiness at the same time. 

They kissed each other again. Pavel lightly shoved Artyom backward, his head hit the wall which made him a little dizzy. Pavel broke free and took a deep breath, made Artyom give him a reassuring smile before he pressed his lips against Artyom's again. He moved his hands to Artyom's wrists, pinned his arms against the wall as he moved down further, kissed his jaw, bit and licked his neck. Artyom was so warm, so hot, so completely soaked in sweat, but Pavel didn't seem to mind, he stroked his damp hair away from Artyom's forehead and gazed deeply into his eyes before Artyom kissed him back. Artyom's mind couldn't form a coherent sentence, he couldn't even think, all he saw were Pavel's bright eyes, no longer cold akin to ice but rather blue like the sky on a summer day, how Artyom imagined it looked anyway. All he felt was his soft lips against his skin, Pavel's strong, steady hands pressing Artyom's arm and the back of his hands against the wall. All he heard was quiet and low moans, both Pavel's and his own. 

Suddenly Pavel froze, pressed his hand against Artyom's mouth and whispered "silence" in his ear. Artyom stood still and just listened, but the only thing he could hear was his own heavy breathing.

"Come on, it's nothing," he tried to say but didn't manage to make a sound. After what felt like minutes, Pavel finally let go of him and exhaled. 

"I heard something. Someone. A sound from the other side of the door." 

"I don't think-" 

"Shh, be quiet." Artyom nodded. 

"You're right," he said dryly. 

"Right about what?" Pavel asked. No answer came to Artyom's mind, he didn't know what to tell Pavel who tried to look at him but glanced at the door every other second. Not knowing what to answer, Artyom shook his head and sighed. 

"Forget it," he mumbled. 

"Artyom..." Pavel said slowly. Paused for minutes until he spoke again. Artyom listened to his own, still heavy, breathing. 

"I should never have... never have come here," Pavel said. 

"Definitely not," Artyom agreed reprehensively. When he could think straight again, shame slowly started to creep under his skin, into his brain. Disgust built up inside of him, he could hardly stand to look at Pavel. 

"They'd probably shoot me, you know." Pavel snorted. "But, eh, such is life, right?" he said with only a hint of sorrow in his smile. Artyom didn't return it. The silence thickened between them. Tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock said. It was 2:09. 

"And you still want me to join the Red Line?" Artyom finally said when the silent pressure was making breathing normally a struggle. 

"I know, I know, it may seem hard to understand, but Tyomik, you have to understand, the Red Line can't have traitors walking around freely without punishment, you get that? I'm sure your beloved Order would do the same thing, really." Pavel was back to speaking with his cold, satirical voice. Artyom choked on his words as he tried to answer. 

"The Red Line is an illness of the metro, a virus and parasite that will continue to spread and grow and infest and in the end, it will kill us all. You've just been brainwashed into thinking you're doing this for the greater good." He softened his voice. "Why don't you leave the Red Line? What's here for you?" Pavel broke their eye contact and shook his head. 

"Artyom, you stupid bitch." Artyom flinched as Pavel's harsh words, spoken with a low and threatening tone. "I can't talk to you anymore," he continued, much calmer. Artyom didn't know if he was on the verge of tears because of anger or an unexplainable sadness. 

"Well don't. No one forced you to come here." 

"I-I'm going to leave y-you," Pavel said. Artyom shrugged his shoulders. Pavel's expression hardened, Artyom could tell that he would reach for his knife before he even moved. It still required all his willpower to not flinch as Pavel hastily picked it up from the table, next to the dying candle. Nonetheless, something must have distorted his forced calm because Pavel almost looked worried for a second. 

"Jesus, I'm, you know, I won't kill you." Artyom bit his tongue in order to not reply "the Red Line will anyway, what's the difference?"

"If, if we have nothing more to say to each other, then goodbye," he said instead. 

"Nothing more. You will regret this when we take D6." 

"You wish," Artyom muttered. Pavel placed his hand on the door's handle, opened it slightly ajar. Glanced over the room a final time, looked at everything but Artyom. Closed the door again and looked directly at him. Artyom felt his heartbeat speed up for reasons he wanted to avoid thinking about at all costs. 

"There is..." Pavel started, voice trembling. "There is a ventilation shaft in the wall behind you, big enough for a person to crawl through," he said very quickly before shutting the door and leaving Artyom in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so bad, I really shouldn't write fiction but I guess I just find it enjoyable. I spent (wasted) my entire day editing/rewriting this when I should have been doing my math and language homework. It was so hard to do, I had to delete and rewrite like half of it and every time I re-read it I found new mistakes.


End file.
